


Director's Orders

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daisy Is The Only Marvel Superhero, Daisy Takes Control, Daisy-centric, F/M, Gen, Guilt, Phil Coulson and his collection, Phil's just so in love with Daisy, Poor Daisy, Post Hive, Post-Episode: s03e17 The Team, Season/Series 03, mentions of mind control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy is being held inside the containment pod and has been given the vaccine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Director's Orders

**Author's Note:**

> I am still angry at the show for messing with Daisy's agency. I get that it's a necessary element for the plot arc they're trying to convey, but it's seriously the last thing she needed.  
> #daisytakescontrol, i guess.  
> This was going to be a longer fic with more explanations and background, but I got impatient and overwhelmed by Daisy feels, so this is all you get. Sorry. I hope you still like it (I hope I'm making sense, it's late).

The vaccine Fitz and Simmons managed to put together takes longer than expected to start working, and the first few days where they have to lock Daisy up in the containment pod are the worst they have had in a while. Coulson’s hiding a training mat and a blanket behind a fire extinguisher in the hallway, but the team knows he spends his nights there anyway (not hard to guess when he spends his days standing in front of the pod, looking at an angry and confused Daisy through the window). 

They all arrange their daily tasks in a way that they can accidentally stop by the pod while walking there; Elena usually can’t bring herself to leave the hallway and it’s usually Mack who carefully reminds her that there is work that needs to be done while Daisy is recovering.

Only Lincoln can’t bring himself to check on her; he keeps interrogating Fitz and Simmons instead, desperately looking for another and another explanation why he hadn’t been able to pick up that Daisy was under Hive’s control already when they were trying to figure out who he was controlling. One day, Simmons simply has to throw him out of the lab because they are trying to improve the vaccine even more, in case it doesn’t work properly or too slowly or in case there are side effects, and Lincoln’s questions and the broken petrichour count are pretty upsetting.

When the cure finally starts working, Daisy collapses on the floor, limbs awkwardly angled away from her body, and Coulson throws all caution into the wind, storms inside to immediately hold her hand while Mack and Joey arrive to lift her onto the bed. Coulson isn’t lifting her, but he can tell she’s lost quite a bit of weight; her wrist has become so small that he’s scared of breaking her by merely touching her. Her injuries have healed, that’s not it, but her cheeks are just so pale and her eyes have been so empty lately, empty and confused. He’s never seen her more dangerous, or more scared, than during the past few days. 

The base is still a mess, they’ve managed to clean up enough that they’re able to use it for work again, but Coulson’s understandably prioritized Daisy’s recovery above all else. They’ve been trying to dissolve the built-up tension within the team, too, but it’s only partially working out. Mack’s managed to convince Elena to stay around the base, under the condition that she won’t participate in any missions without Daisy being team leader. Joey’s promised to stay at least until she has recovered; May’s asked him not to leave until he’s talked to Daisy about what’s happened, and he doesn’t hesitate to agree (it’s the first time he notices May’s smile, really).

Apart from his near-constant inquiries about the neurological background of how Hive was able to bring Daisy under his control without making him notice she was different, Lincoln keeps to himself. If Mack wasn’t still checking cameras every now and then, they wouldn’t even be sure where he is most of the time or if he’s at the base at all (he’s been leaving unannounced quite often lately).

After her collapse, Daisy remains unconscious for three days straight (three days during which Coulson sleeps in the pod; he’s moved the training mat inside, next to the bed – Joey guesses he just doesn’t care anymore if they know or not). When she wakes up, it takes her about ten seconds to realize what happened as she’s looking at Coulson’s face (a potential smile hidden on it somewhere, but the worrying and lack of sleep much more clearly visible), and the first thing she does is burst in tears.

It should come as a relief that she’s actually able to remember what happened, that she’s back to being herself, aware of what’s going on, aware of how she ended up in here, but looking at her still breaks Coulson’s heart because he can only try to imagine how she feels.

Obviously, he’s seen and done quite a few things himself that still tug at his heart and conscience and which he still feels he hasn’t received absolution for, but this is clearly different. It’s different mainly and most importantly because Daisy’s agency has been compromised in the past, because both this feeling of absolute helplessness and this heavy guilt distorting her features right now are something that she’s felt before. That’s why this is a horrifying repetition of a pattern he so wishes Daisy would never have had to deal with again, why this is another materialization of Daisy’s deepest fears, a manifestations of all those nightmares that still make her wake up screaming. 

Daisy’s sobbing doesn’t fade, doesn’t stop, and Coulson gets more and more discouraged by the minute. He moves a little closer – he’s been sitting on her bed –, carefully takes her hand, like he’s making sure he’s allowed to. It only makes her cry more, and Coulson can’t help it, he’s hugging her tight, rubbing her back, trying to make her feel at least a little safe. She cries for a terrifyingly long time and Coulson prays he’s actually doing the right thing, at least not making her feel worse than she already is.

When she finally stops, he can feel her suddenly think she needs to move away from him, like this action’s over and she has no right to stay in his arms, but he tenderly touches her hair at the back of her head, showing her she’s allowed to stay here for as long as she wants. It makes her sigh deeply, and he can tell it’s the first moment of relief she’s gotten ever since regaining consciousness. She doesn’t move, and he starts talking, softly, slowly; tells her how everyone she cares about is still alive, how the base is back to being functional, how Hive’s been defeated, how well especially Elena and Joey fought, how Fitz and Simmons managed to finally come up with a vaccine. 

She nods against his shoulder, makes a weak attempt at freeing herself from Coulson’s arms, but he understands she suspects she’s burdening him and doesn’t let go. She seems to be grateful for that, noticeably tries to relax her shoulders as she keeps hiding in his hug.  
Coulson is about to draw the first real breath since Daisy’s returned to the base, but that’s when she says, “I don’t deserve this. I shouldn’t even be here. If anything, you should be keeping me in Vault D or someth-“  
“Daisy, stop.”

His voice is soft, but it doesn’t leave any room for interpretation.  
“That wasn’t you. _This_ is you. Hive managed to infect you, use you by messing with your brain. We all know that wasn’t you back there.”  
She pulls herself free, looks at him with eyes that are going to haunt Coulson in his nightmares.  
“But you don’t understand – it _was_ me, _I_ did all these things. You think I didn’t realize what was going on – I was there for all of it, I could feel him controlling me, and I was too weak to resist it. Coulson, I _understood_ what was going on, and I still did everything he wanted. All this wouldn’t have happened –“  
“You mustn’t say that.” He covers her hand with his and is actually surprised when she doesn’t pull away. “Daisy, I – You couldn’t have done anything. He had you under his control, and it doesn’t matter if you knew what was going on or not – you had no choice other than to act out what he orchestrated. You’re not guilty of _anything_.”

She looks like she’s about to cry again, and he squeezes her hand.  
“I tried so hard to fight it,” she whispers, tears in her eyes. “I knew that what I was doing was wrong, I was there to see it, _I did it_ , but I couldn’t _change it_ -,” her voice cracks –, “it felt like ... it felt exactly like -“  
His voice is softer than she’s ever heard it before. “I know.”  
“I felt so helpless –“  
“But you still managed to protect us.”  
“But _how_ -“ She’s almost yelling.  
“You know you could have buried us all beneath the base.”  
She swallows.  
“You chose not to do that.”  
He can see her desperately looking for something to retort, but she’s unable to come up with anything, and it makes him smile, because he’s managed to tell her the truth without being certain of it, and because it seems to set something in motion, because it seems to make her begin to sort of come to terms with what happened. It’s obvious that this is going to take some time, but it’s also obvious that they are already past the first step.

***

One by one, the others come to visit Daisy, talk to her (Simmons has told her it would be best not to move out of the pod until they’re sure she’s made a full recovery, and Daisy doesn’t even try to discuss it); after a few days, they have assembled a small table full of little gifts that are supposed to make her feel a little better – flowers, books, chocolate, silly women’s magazines, that kind of things. Elena keeps cooking for her, spends as much time as she can with Daisy (watching her eat, mostly, and trying to find out what she likes best). She’s showing Daisy how Spanish pronounciation works and they keep laughing about Daisy trying to copy Elena; occasionally, Joey joins them, challenging Daisy to small translation exercises.

May never stays too long, but Daisy feels like she’s given her one important piece of advice, one comforting sentence every day, and that’s more than she’s ever hoped to get after all that happened. It’s strange how – apart from Coulson, obviously – May seems to understand her better than everyone else on the base. It’s not like they haven’t been getting along extraordinarily well, because Daisy knows May’s always been on her side, without a doubt, but she hasn’t expected May to be this good at putting herself into her shoes, and it feels like finally, something inside of her – a wound much older than last week’s – has started healing the tiniest bit.

All the comfort and feeling of safety she has regained disappears when, after three days of her being awake, Lincoln comes to see her. He’s doing this little dance at the door where he waits for her to explicitly invite him in, then approaches her by walking as close to the opposite wall as possible, making her wonder if he’s afraid of her, if he’s blaming her. There’s this tragic look on his face that tells her she’s disappointed him, and it’s probably what she’s going to remember best from this conversation, she knows that already. 

She has to speak first; he awkwardly stands near one of the room’s corners, not really looking at her.  
“Hey.”  
“Hey.” There’s this look in his eyes that she can’t quite figure out; it looks like guilt, but it also looks very much like an attempt to make her feel guilty.  
“You’re awake.”  
“Yeah – I’ve been awake for three days now.”  
“It’s good to see you’re back.” It sounds flat, and she wonders if he’s been rehearsing this in his bunk or something.  
She deliberately doesn’t say anything else, wants to wait for whatever he came to tell her, and it doesn’t take too long until he speaks (not after she looks him directly in the eye, anyway). He doesn’t approach any further, though, and it makes Daisy feel a little like an outcast, and it stings that it’s such a familiar feeling.

“You left me.”  
She doesn’t even know how to reply.  
“I was being controlled.”  
“You told them you thought it was me.”  
“He – Hive wanted me to join him. I guess he wanted me to provide S.H.I.E.L.D. with a red herring.”  
“You used me.”  
“He used me.”  
He sighs, and he sounds obviously annoyed.  
“You didn’t even look back.”  
“That wasn’t me you saw back there.”  
“Yes, it _was_ you, Daisy, you looked at me, told me to come with you. You said one day I’d _understand_.”

“But you don’t.”  
“Don’t what?”  
“You don’t understand, do you? I was possessed by this thing.” She’s really trying to restrain herself, trying not to yell at her boyfriend. “He controlled my mind, Lincoln. I had no choice. He made me do what I did.”  
“I know I should, but I can’t believe that. Not after how you looked at me.”  
“Looked at you how?”  
“Like you meant what you said.”  
“But I meant what I said – he made me mean it. That wasn’t me talking to you, you have to understand that.”  
“But you looked like –“  
“I was – He used me against you. All of you. It could have been anyone. It could have been Elena, or Joey. It could have been _you_.”  
“What are you trying to s-“  
“Any of us could have been controlled. You happened to go into a direction that led you to Malick, but what if it had been the other way round? If I had ended up there? You could have ended up in the command room, and it could have been _you_.”  
He’s fighting for words.

 

“Look, I can’t change what happened. And I’m sorry. But if you can’t forgive me, I can’t be with you.”  
“I – You’re not in the position to –“  
“Stop it, Lincoln.” She’s never tried harder not to raise her voice, not since the orphanage.  
“You don’t think I feel guilty? You don’t think I wish I was dead, after all this? I sure as hell deserve it. But I happen to be alive, and the guilt is killing me every minute. You think I enjoyed this? You think I enjoyed being a part of Hive? Hurting people, killing people? Destroying? You think I ever wanted to stand on the wrong side?”  
She swallows; she’s started to shout at him anyway, wills herself to speak low – low but very clearly.  
“Listen, I’ll never finish apologizing for this, and I don’t deserve to be treated the way I am –,” she’s gesturing at the small table full of gifts -, “but what I don’t deserve either is you treating me like I’m some kind of a traitor, like I’m scum.” There are tears in her eyes now.  
“I think you should go.”

He doesn’t even dignify her with a nod, he just turns around and walks away. It takes her less than two minutes to start crying, and she’s just so angry with herself for letting that happen; they’re angry tears, and they’re not supposed to be there at the corners of her eyes. The worst part of it all is that she still can’t tell if she’s right or not.

Lincoln’s left for good, Coulson tells her when he comes to visit her in the evening, almost apologizes for it. She tries to take it easy, but the tears are already there at the back of her throat, and it takes all her willpower to keep them there. She feels like she’s back at the orphanage; the tears feel exactly like the tears she’s had to blink back every time she was wrongly accused of something. Even the familiar knot in her stomach is back, telling her she’s been wronged, but she’s feeling too guilty to really acknowledge she’s been mistreated.

Coulson must sense that something’s really wrong, because he sits down at her bedside, trying not to look at her like he’s waiting for something. She starts talking anyway, and that keeps the tears away.  
“He was trying to hold what I said when I was being controlled against me.”  
“What did you say?”  
“I said we should – Does it matter?”  
“Does it matter to you?”  
That makes her swallow, blink a few times. “I didn’t mean what I said.”  
“Obviously not.”  
The naturalness with which he answers, without any hesitation, finally reassures her a little. She briefly touches his hand.  
“Thank you.”

***

When, finally, Daisy is strong enough to take her spot on the team again, Simmons tries to throw a little party, but Daisy protests until the whole thing is converted into mutual afternoon coffee, without announcements or celebrations, just a team meeting in the kitchen that looks like they’ve accidentally landed in the same room at the same time, but it makes Daisy feel a little better anyway, because she understands that they are still there for her.

The first few missions don’t go as planned, though; nothing goes really wrong, but Daisy fails to take the lead on tactical decisions, makes the others rely on their own assessment of the situation, follows whoever makes the first suggestion. It takes Coulson a little to notice her insecurity, because he’s not normally teamed up with her and because no one tells him about it. He realizes something is wrong when they accidentally meet in the kitchen and he’s offering her two different kinds of ice-cream. She replies she’s going to have whatever he’s having, and it’s so out of character for her (he just _knows_ that the pistachio’s her favourite) that his heart sinks because he’s putting together why her missions haven’t been as successful lately as he’s expected them to be.

“Which one do you prefer?”  
“I don’t know, you choose, okay?”  
He doesn’t want to put pressure on her, so he puts the pistachio in front of her anyway, makes a mental note to think of something to support her.

Daisy just notices that he’s not sleeping in the hallway anymore (he’s discreetly removed the training mat from the pod, but he hasn’t given her any reason to suspect that he hasn’t been sleeping right outside the pod’s door; she's still staying in here, tells Coulson something about she still feels safer inside the pod) because she actually sees him approach from the other end of the corridor the next morning. To be honest, when he enters, he doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping at all.

“Good morning, Director,” she tries, picking up the stern look on his face, trying to lighten the mood. He doesn’t follow her lead, tries to get right to the visibly important point (his jaw is clenching a little), isn’t sure how to phrase things.  
“I’ve gotten rid of levels, you know that.”  
She chuckles shyly. “I remember contributing that suggestion.”  
Her comment seems to make him a little nervous. “True – It’s – I wanted to ask you something.”  
“Ask me – what?” She can’t help it, she’s starting to feel a little anxious, like she can’t bear the idea of dealing with any responsibility right now, but she’s trying very hard to keep it together because he looks so serious.

He produces a fragile-looking golden watch from his breast pocket; it’s an elegant women’s watch, but it looks like something from Coulson’s collection, something that’s probably related to espionage.  
“Coulson, what –“  
“This was Peggy Carter’s watch.”  
“Peggy Ca-“  
“Yes. It’s a spy watch.”  
She’s lost for words, because it looks unbelievably pretty, prettier than anything she’s ever allowed herself to have, but it also looks awesome and lethal and versatile and just like a very smart invention, with small cogs and buttons around it, like something she normally wouldn’t dare to touch.  
“I’ll explain it to you later, but I wanted you to have it.”  
“Coulson, why – I don’t deserve any –“  
“Daisy, I want you to be the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

She puts her hand on her mouth, not like someone who’s pretending to be surprised or trying to maintain some amount of politeness or decency, but like she’s trying not to break down, and it breaks his heart to see how unexpected this is for her, how unimaginable his suggestion must seem to her. Very carefully, he closes the watch around her wrist, adjusts its face, briefly lets his fingertips rest against her arm.  
“I mean it, Daisy. You deserve it. There’s nobody else I would trust with this job. There’s no other leader out there like you.”  
She doesn’t even realize she’s started crying, slowly, like she’s cleaning out thoughts she’s been mislead to cling onto since she was a little girl.  
“I’ve never seen anyone fight like you have been fighting, put so much energy into helping and saving people, hold on to such valuable ideas and principles while having to deal with some of the world’s darkest things and people.”  
He very carefully puts a hand on her knee.  
“I need you to believe me. I’ve never seen anyone like you and I can think of no one better for the job.”

It takes her a moment to regain her speech, her eyes desperately looking for something in his, something she knows is there but hasn’t dared to hope for since all this happened.  
“You think I – You think I can do it?”  
It seems such a small question, but Coulson hears thousands and thousands of other questions hidden in it, so many that it almost hurts to answer, but the answer to all of them is the same.  
“Yes.”  
And there, slowly, very slowly, Daisy smiles at him, and it comes to him with a sharp pain somewhere around his ribs that this is the first time since she returned that he’s seen her smile like that: like a free person, like someone who’s glad to be alive, someone who’s looking forward to tomorrow, and the day after, and all the days after that.

She hugs him, and it’s a really awkward hug, because he’s sitting on the small chair next to her bed, and she’s extending her arms into his direction from the bed, but it’s the best hug she’s had in such a long time.  
“So what are you going to do first?”  
She smirks. “You mean – in my new capacity as Director?”  
He nods, and she realizes he looks just like a happy little child right now.  
“Does that also mean I can tell _you_ what to do?”  
She swears he’s blushing; at least he’s trying not to meet her eyes right now. “Yeah.”  
Carefully, like she’s thinking, she hums before speaking.  
“You remember you made me that grilled cheese once?”  
“You mean when you were –“  
“Exactly.”  
He smiles, suddenly regaining some fragment of his trademark charm (he can’t fool her, because he looks like he’s never been happier, but he manages to make his answer sound a little flirty nonetheless).  
“So how about dinner tonight, in here, seven o’clock?”  
She outright _beams_ at him.  
“No suits, AC.”  
He frowns, like he’s been caught red-handed. “I was going to –“  
“Director’s orders,” she smiles, and he can’t believe she’s looking at him like that, like he’s the best thing in the whole world right now, because that would be new, that would be a first.  
He’s still smiling when he arrives in the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Writing this fic was really important to me, I just wish I didn't always get so impatient with myself while writing. Hope you liked it.


End file.
